Pieces Left Behind

I’ve been discussing grad school’s affect on one’s personality with a friend today. We’ve been speaking in terms of the pieces of ourselves left behind as we got/get closer to a degree.

Some of this is necessary. In order to write a dissertation, some parts of your life have to shrink a little. Your interests have to narrow, at least to a certain extent.

I miss the way I sought out new cultural experiences–ethnic restaurants, Broadway shows, museums of every kind, lectures on subjects I knew little about. Now, if I don’t have to go to an event on campus, I am overjoyed to be at home.

I also miss my sense of being an efficient person, very quick to solve problem. Even efficient dissertation work is still not efficient in my old sense of it.

I can’t totally blame this next part on grad school, I think part of it has to do with getting married, too–but I miss having nearly unlimited social energy. I ate every meal with someone else, hung out with multiple people in an evening on a regular basis, and sent ridiculously long e-mails to far-away friends. If I indulge these kind of behaviors now, I don’t have much energy left for my dissertation.

Some people outside of academia complain that they’ve lost the way they used to think deeply about things, so it’s not just a matter of finding the perfect job that complements all parts of yourself.

Still, it’s useful to think about how to care for those parts of yourself that are not getting constant exercise. One thing I’ve successfully reclaimed is pleasure reading. And a few weeks ago, I went to a tap-dancing show, and while it didn’t blow my mind, it felt good to give it a try. That’s what the old me would have done.

Reasons

My husband gave his brother this advice:

If you’re going to build boats for a living, don’t just do it because you think building boats would be fun. Try to build boats greener, or faster.  Have a reason to build boats.

In many ways, I think I ended up in grad school because I thought school was fun. Lately, I haven’t been finding research that fun–so I’m wondering if I really want to be a scholar.

The only thing that can sustain research, as far as I can tell, is an honest question–really wanting to find something out, having a reason for doing it.

Lately, I have been asking myself whether I really and truly want to graduate. Since I’ve been filled with self-doubt in the past week, in many ways it’s not a good moment to make a big decision. Still, I’ve been thinking about whether or not I have reasons to stay.

My questions about poetry are, in this moment, not that pressing. But I have a very good reason for writing my blog: I want to address the problem of graduate students feeling isolated, worthless, and/or unproductive. And while I don’t seen anything inherently shameful about quitting, I don’t see how I can keep writing my blog unless I continue to pursue the degree. Also, I’ve recently had a big idea for a project relating to alternate careers for doctors. While I could do this project now, I think it will be much more credible authored by a Ph.D.

These reasons are not directly related to my dissertation, but they’ve helped ease my anxiety. I really do not want to feel trapped in grad school. It’s hard enough to be here when you have reasons. If I get to the point where I don’t have any left, I’m outta here.

Identity in Grad School

Seeing yourself as more than just a graduate student is crucial–the dissertation should not be the core of your identity.

I have always been thankful for the weekly poetry slam in Austin, which allowed me a chance every week to meet people outside of academia, express myself in a non-scholarly way, and generally have a life outside school. This was particularly important my first year in graduate school, when I was single and in a new city.

Like any other kind of worker, graduate students are entitled to regular days off, a family life, and hobbies.

During our first year of grad school, one of my colleagues actually said to me, “I’m not here to make friends.”  We later became good friends, and seven years later, I can’t imagine her repeating this sentiment.

“You’re a human thing,” as the Be Good Tanyas sing. And as a human, scholarship cannot be your only priority.

Self-Worth

brains As discussed in my previous post, I’ve had some problems with self esteem lately. This post secret card was not created by me, but it brought tears to my eyes.

I had a couple really interesting conversations with 22-year-old men yesterday that I’m still mulling over.

My brother-in-law, who works as a line cook, took a leave of absence from his undergraduate work to think about what he wants to do with his life. He took the cooking job as a way to make money in the meantime.

The way he described his job fascinated me. He explained how he knows he thinks very differently than the other people he works with, and he’s made many small changes in the kitchen to increase its efficiency. All day as he works, he thinks about how to be more efficient, how to make the food taste better, how to make it look better, how to make the jobs of everyone in the kitchen easier.

He described feeling like one part of a well-oiled machine. Every person in the restaurant has a unique skill set and unique personality that make them suited to their job. They depend on each other, but within their own stations they also have control over their own work.

What struck me in his description was that unlike graduate school, which seems to gradually tear people down, make them question their worth, and feel irrelevant and ignorant–working in the kitchen was actually building my brother-in-law up: it was making him realize his own skills and learn how he’s different from other people in a good way. He offers the workplace his gifts, and he sees their tangible effects on other people.

When I talked to my own brother later, I told him about the restaurant conversation. My brother told me that all the things my brother-in-law desribed were the exact reason he spends so many hours playing World of Warcraft. He hasn’t found another situation where he can work as part of a team, get a lot of praise for his actions, and feel confident about his unique skills.

I’ve always considered myself someone who doesn’t work well with others, who would prefer to be doing my own project. But my brother-in-law is very introverted, and he said he was suprised by how satisfying it is to be part of the kitchen.

Universities are anything but well-oiled machines. So I’m trying to figure out how to get this experience of a job that builds esteem. If you have ideas, dear readers, I’d love to hear them.

Graduate School and Mental Health

In some ways, I’ve had it better than most in graduate school. It wasn’t until well into my seventh year that I had this thought: I am too stupid to be here. Until then, I had always maintained that anyone with the desire could be a doctor.

Since I’ve had the thought, it’s been hard to shake. Before that moment I had never felt too stupid for anything. I loved school and always did well, and I was given a lot of credit for being smart by those around me. I knew some people in graduate school felt inadequate, and I felt sorry for them because I was sure their problem was a lack of confidence and not a lack of ability. I felt fortunate for my own sense of self-worth.

Grad-School Blues,” a recent article in The Chronicle of Higher Education, cited a 2004 study that revealed 54% of graduate students suffered from depression severe enough to interfere with their ability to work. Compare that to 9.5% of Americans suffering from depression in a typical year.

Writing a dissertation can be seen as an empowering act: an individual relies mostly on him or herself to complete a long, intellectual piece of work. In practice, however, graduate students can feel very powerless, at the mercy of university politics, their supervisor, or their department’s expectations.

The article cites Gregory Eells, director of counseling and psychological services at Cornell, who explains that grad students don’t typically participate in many social activities such as clubs or intramural sports. Graduate students who are socially isolated may be less likely to know about resources available to them.

Besides counseling, getting a dissertation coach, participating in online discussions about graduate school, or joining a writing group can be helpful. Practicing yoga, meditation, or a religion can also help keep the dissertation in perspective.

One doctor who had left academia was quoted in the article: “There’s this perception that if you hold your breath and make it through, you’ll be fine,” she says. But if you don’t deal with such issues, she says, “you will not be an effective student, scholar, or researcher.”

When I read “Grad-School Blues,” I thought, this is the reason I’m writing my blog. I believe it’s a bad idea to simply try to fake smartness and confidence in your academic life. We should be willing to discuss therapy and strategies for working and living–if not with out superiors, at least with our colleagues. Our health depends on it.

Research Question

I’m reading a great book called The Craft of Research. Look for a complete review in the coming weeks. But for now, I simply have to share a crucial vocabulary word for any doctoral student.

I was told that I do not have a research question in my dissertation. I made several attempts to improve the situation, but I have continued to struggle with it.  Finally, this book showed me what I was doing wrong.

A practical question has a problem, which is in some way related to unhappiness. (A small business is losing money). The solution to the practical problem is an action (laying off 2 people).

In a research question, the problem is always a lack of knowledge. Therefore, in a dissertation, we wouldn’t frame the problem as something sad (losing money) but something unknown: how can this business lower its operation costs? The solution is always increased understanding–not an action. Presumably, after research, one would arrive a fairly complicated answer to the question about the business.

And our research might not lead 100% directly to the practical solution. Maybe the owner would still be unwilling to consider layoffs even after seeing that it would be effective–maybe her employees are her nephews or something. But often, a research question is at least related to a practical problem.

At this phase in my dissertation, when I’ve finished a draft of the entire thing, I worked backwards, asking myself “what do I have a better understanding of now that when I started?” This worked better than asking myself “what should people do who have read my dissertation?”

Recommendations from Students

When I first heard that grad students should ask former students to write recommendations of their teaching, I thought to myself that I would be way to embarrassed to ever ask my students to say nice things about me.

But one day this winter, buoyed by three compliments on my course from students, I wrote several students from my last six courses. I chose to write a mass e-mail, because I didn’t want any particular student to feel pressured to respond. I tried to give them a few “outs” so they didn’t feel bad if they didn’t want to do it. I told them that I knew they were busy and that I understood that they may not remember the details of the course that well.

One smart thing that I did was offer to show them a recommendation I had written for a professor up for tenure so they would have some idea of what was appropriate to discuss. All the students who wrote were eager to see that letter; they would have had a much harder time without it.

I am so glad I asked. Five of my students enthusiastically agreed, and their letters have been so kind. It’s been a real boost during this last semester. I feel like I have accomplished something while I’m here–I don’t think any of my students from my first few classes would have described me as “organized.” But the students also claimed to have learned real, useful skills that have benefited them outside of my class.

So, I say it’s worth the embarrassment! However, if you feel uncomfortable approaching students out of the blue, it might still work to ask students who tell you they enjoyed the class (either at the end of their final exam, in person, or via e-mail) or even to ask for a little reciprocation if a student wants you to write a recommendation for them.

Alaska!

Joan Bolker, my dissertation-writing guru, says in Writing Your Dissertation in 15 Minutes a Day that you should reward yourself each time you reach a milestone. You reward youself in a small way at the end of each day that you’ve reached your goal ( in my case, with an episode of Northern Exposure). You reward yourself in a bigger way each time you finish a chapter (with an expensive dinner, maybe, or a weekend trip to see a friend). And you reward yourself in a big, big way when you finish your dissertation. You plan out your reward early so that you can look forward to it the entire time you’re writing.

After I read that book, I decided that I wanted to go to Japan after graduation. I want to see some of the most seriously awesome aquariums in the world.

But recently, I changed my mind. I’m going to Alaska. Partly because Northern Exposure has been such a pleasant part of my last year of grad school. Partly because I want to rest, and the small towns of Alaska seem less challenging than Tokyo. Partly because there’s not a single thing related to poetry or art that I want to see there (please don’t mistake me: I’m sure there are things of that sort to experience. They are just not the reason I’m going). Partly because I have developed, in the last few weeks of writing the dissertation, an obsession with what my niece Cate calls “bearses.” I don’t know why, but all the sudden, I need to see bearses for myself.

By the way, you don’t have to leave bear-sightings to chance in Alaska. There are small planes that take you to places where bears are guaranteed to be hanging out. In June, they’ll be taking advantage of the salmon run.

Heck. Yeah.

I also considered buying a fancy new bed, getting a massage for seven days in a row, and going to a fancy pants spa in Palm Springs for a weekend.

You’d think graduating would be it’s own reward, but the celebration is a nice thing to look forward to, and surprisingly comforting when the work is not going well.  No matter where you are in grad school, I encourage you to make some plans.

Hobbies

I was happy to read FemaleScienceProfessor’s blog today, which encouraged potential hires to admit they do something other than work.

Even if copping to hobbies and families is a bad strategy for getting a job, I think those of us on the market should do it anyway. Life beyond work–even intellectual, interesting work–should never be disparaged.

Fun is fun. There, I said it! And no scary hiring committee will ever make me deny it.

Introduction & Conclusion

In many ways, the introduction and conclusion are the hardest things to write in the dissertation. Not only do you have to be clear about your main points, but you also want to interest your readers and compell them to keep reading (in the case of the introduction) and make them feel a sense of accomplishment and increased knowledge (in the case of the conclusion).

As they say, no pressure.

I found it very helpful to read some of the introductions to my favorite scholarly books before starting my introduction draft. I didn’t do that before I wrote the conclusion.

My last three pages of the conclusion are, at the moment, truly lame. I felt like I was trying to get out of an awkward conversation at a party as I was writing it . . . I babbled on and then ducked away suddenly. The last pages string together some vague platitudes and maybe even a little motivational speaker-ese. Yuck.

I’m going to read the ends of a bunch of good books today. I think it will help.